


Morning, Noon and Night

by Larrrsy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Poetry, Post-Game, Reading Aloud, Reading as Foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6432697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrrsy/pseuds/Larrrsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra and Varric's relationship takes a turn for the romantic when the Seeker finds a mysterious poem in Varric's room.  Is it for a new chapter of Swords & Shields or is it something else entirely?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dawn

After the defeat of Corypheus, Skyhold had erupted in celebration. Music and laughter could be heard throughout the fortress and no one was without a drink, or two in their hands. The early morning hours found Cassandra and the rest of her compatriots atop the battlements. She was well past her limit but the deservedly cheerful atmosphere had spurred her past moderation and into one drink after another.

As the night went on and the first rays of the morning sun crested the horizon the celebrations began to dwindle. Cassandra and the others watched as those who could stumbled slowly through the yard making the long journey back to their beds. Those unable to make the trek simply stayed where they were, slumped atop and under tables, curled into hay bales or sprawled in heaps against buildings and one another.

As the sun rose they began to take their leave of each other. Cassandra watched as Bull all but carried Dorian down the stairs, the mage too far gone and far too happy to resist. The Inquisitor and Cullen, who had disappeared earlier in the evening but had managed to join them for the sunrise, once again departed together. As the pair walked away hand in hand Cassandra smiled to herself, heartened by the open expression of their feelings.

“Are they making it official then?” Varric pondered the couple before catching Cassandra’s eye, a sly smirk gracing his features.

“Do not ruin the moment by opening your mouth, dwarf.” Varric laughed heartily, and wrapped a strong arm around her waist. Cassandra attempted her customary scoff but there was no heart behind it, the copious amounts of alcohol had left her too heady to fight with him. Emboldened by the spirit of the evening, and the wine, she laid her arm across Varric’s shoulders, content to watch her comrades peel off into the early morning.

At any other time Cassandra’s senses would have been on edge by such close proximity, such bodily contact between herself and Varric. True, over the long months of hard fought battles against Corypheus and between themselves they had come to a mutual if reluctant détente. But their begrudging respect always took place from afar, as if touching one another outside of battle would fracture the fragile relationship they were slowly building. Varric’s arm was warm and heavy against her back and hip, she could feel the heat of his fingertips burning through her leathers at her side. He flexed his hand gripping her hip more firmly, Cassandra took a slow raking breath reveling in the new sensation.

Leliana appeared at her free side. Cassandra slowly turned her head to face her, afraid that too much movement would cause the hand at her hip to disappear. Leliana’s eyes quickly flickered from Varric’s arm to Cassandra’s face, her expression showed nothing but that Cassandra had seen the movement at all was telling enough.

“I know you won’t, but please take the morning off. You deserve it my friend.” Leliana bowed her head and kissed Cassandra’s cheek, “I’ll leave you to it” she whispered against Cassandra’s ear before standing straight again. Cassandra felt blood begin to rush into her face and neck at her friend’s insinuating remark.

“I’m sure I do not need to tell _you_ to get some rest Varric?” The dwarf laughed and nodded his head in acquiescence.

“Night, Nightingale.”

“Sleep well, although it would seem that Sera has already beaten you to it.” Cassandra and Varric turned as one to see Sera a few feet away propped up against some crates, snoring lightly. With the two of them distracted Leliana slipped silently from the walkway and left the pair relatively alone.

Varric was the first to realize that she was gone. “How does she do that? She’s too sneaky, and that’s coming from a rogue!”

“Leliana has always been that way, you get used to it. It does however, baffle me that someone as loud and brash as yourself has any skill for stealth whatsoever.” Varric feigned a sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. Cassandra tensed slightly under the extra weight and stared at the top of his head where the early morning sun reflected off the copper strands in his hair.

“It’s too late, or…too early? It’s too something, for this.” Varric waved his free hand between the two of them. “Let’s call it a night and we can start again in the morning.”

“Are you conceding then?” Varric tilted his head back to fix a pointed look at Cassandra.

“Never. I’m merely proposing a ceasefire until we’re both able to walk in a straight line again.”

“Speak for yourself I am perfectly fine, dwarf.”

“Oh? So you aren’t just hanging on me for support?” Cassandra could feel her face flushing again.

“I would nev-you grabbed me first!” Varric laughed as she sputtered and recoiled from his grasp. His arm fell from her waist and found its way to the small of her back.

“Come on Seeker, I’ll take you home.”

\----

Cassandra didn’t remember the night before as well as she’d like to admit. She did however remember the lingering heat at the small of her back where Varric had laid his hand, guiding her back to the forge where they had said their goodbyes. The sensation was soon replaced by an all-encompassing ache, felt in every joint, bone and muscle in her body. This too was accompanied by an intense pounding in her head, one of the worst headaches she had felt in years. Slowly crawling from her bedroll on the floor Cassandra poured herself a glass of water, hoping to relieve at least some of the dryness in her mouth and throat.

It was just after midday, the sun hung high in the sky yet the castle, which was usually bustling with activity at this time, remained nearly deserted. Cassandra watched out her window as a few stragglers from the night before began to rouse and find their way back inside. Clutching the edge of the windowsill she took a deep breath, steeling herself before beginning her regular morning routine. Despite Leliana’s request Cassandra was determined not to forgo her morning training. She doubted that the exertion would do anything to clear her head but her training was imperative, regardless of their recent victory.

\----

The sound of her sword connecting with the training dummy echoed across the still empty yard. The sun, which had broken the morning with a serene beauty now bore down on her brow severely. The harsh light aggravating her headache which had not yet dissipated. Cassandra let the sword fall to her side and wiped the sweat away from her eyes.

“Maker Seeker how much did you drink? You know we defeated Corypheus right?” Cassandra looked over her shoulder to find Varric resting against the fence surrounding the training area. “Damn, you look like shit.”

“Ugh.” She scoffed at his remark, although she did not doubt he spoke the truth. Training with her hangover had taken more out of her than she had thought.

“I distinctly remember a little bird telling you to take it easy today.”

“I am surprised that you remember _anything_ about last night.” Cassandra made her way towards the fence, resting her forearms against the wood, dipping her head to shield it from the bright sunlight.

“That's Dwarven constitution for you!” Cassandra chuckled, then instantly regretted the vibrations it sent through her head. Groaning, she brought a gloved hand to her temple in an attempt to ease the ringing sensation. “Shit Seeker, didn't realize you were in such a bad way...I may have something that could help.” He said with some hesitation. The timber of Varric's voice had softened and his forehead creased in concern. Something in the pit of Cassandra’s stomach lurched at his careful tone and expression. She straightened with some difficulty and took a deep breath through her nose.

“If you serious, then yes. _Please_.” Speaking took some effort, as did assenting to help from Varric. He did however, seem surprisingly sincere and so Cassandra followed him through the yard and into the castle.

Passing through the main doors was an instant relief to her senses, she was thankful for the dim light and the cold which radiated off the stone walls. As Varric led Cassandra through the halls she couldn't discern where he was taking her, she assumed his quarters although she was unsure as she had never been there before. Turning a corner Varric stopped short in front of her and she bumped into his back, bouncing slightly off his solid form. “Sorry” he chuckled before unlocking the door in front of them.

His room was just as she had imagined, not that she spent much time wondering what his quarters looked like she assured herself. The room was colourful and warm, with a certain lived in charm. Varric ushered her in and shut the door. While he dug through a drawer in his bedside table she took the time to blatantly stare at her surroundings taking in as much detail as possible. It wasn't that she was a particularly nosy person but she had been given access to Varric's most personal space, a rare opportunity. She was most interested in the desk by the window. The desk where knowing Varric he did his most private writing, like his books. Varric's back was turned to her so with quiet determination Cassandra stole across the room hoping to find some proof of a new chapter of _Swords & Shields._

The desk was covered in scraps of paper, at a glance most of the missives looked like letters, nothing that looked novel-esque. With a quick look to make sure that Varric was still occupied, Cassandra lightly brushed the papers on the desk, disrupting their placement to look at those that were covered. One piece caught her eye, the format was unlike anything else on the desk. If she didn't know better she'd say it was, “Poetry, Varric?” She picked up the slip of paper, it was certainly poetry. She was surprised, on more than one occasion Varric had professed his inability and disinclination to write poems. But before she could read it Varric was by her side with surprising speed, a look of mild alarm on his face.

“Spoilers Seeker!” Varric snatched the paper out of her hand.

“But you do not write poetry Varric?”

“Uhhh...It's for the next chapter of _Swords & Shields_, it was _supposed_ to be a surprise.” Varric was hurriedly shoving the slip of paper into his tunic away from prying eyes.

“Then you are writing a new chapter?!” Cassandra’s eyes lit up, a rare smile gracing her face. Having finished the latest chapter ages ago, she had been pestering the writer about a new one ceaselessly. But he had given her no indication that another would follow soon, if ever. Varric stared at her with a confusing look on his face, he gave his head a quick shake before speaking again.

“That was supposed to be a surprise too. A 'thanks for saving the world' gift, if you may.”

“Varric, I did no more saving than you. But I do appreciate it.” She said softly. Varric began to shift uncomfortably under her beaming.

“Well now the surprise is ruined, maybe I shouldn't even-” Varric started backing away from the desk a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“No! You have to! The Knight-Captain deserves a happy ending!” Cassandra was emphatic.

“But happy endings are so _boring_ Seeker.”

“Happy endings are romantic Varric. Promise me that you will not torture her again?”

“So what, you want me to let you read it in advance so that you know you're getting the story you want?”

“Yes!” Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up, her heartbeat quickening in her chest. Varric looked taken aback by her honest display of emotion. “Would you?” Varric’s face contorted into an unpleasant expression, he did not look pleased with the prospect as if he regretted even speaking the notion aloud. Cassandra could feel the opportunity slipping away from her.

“I-I guess? But wouldn't you rather wait until it's finished?”

“No.” She said hastily.

“I haven't written that much down yet-”

“Whatever you have will suffice.” Cassandra wasn't going to let this chance go, she had been waiting for a new chapter for too long. Varric heaved a long sigh.

“Alright Seeker.” Cassandra nearly squealed with delight. “But tomorrow! You need to give me time to edit at least.”

“Of course. I won't keep you.” She crossed the room in a hurry wanting to leave him to his work, the sooner he finished the sooner she could read it. She was nearly at the door when he gave a pointed cough.

“Forgetting something?” Varric held a small vial filled with a clear liquid at her. “Unless that hangover was some elaborate plot to get into my room. And if it was you are really selling yourself short at _Wicked Grace_. _”_ She wouldn't admit it to him, but the prospect of a new chapter of her favorite serial had momentarily abated her hangover.

“What it is?”

“A little something I may have picked up off of Dorian. Works wonders.”

Cassandra eyed it skeptically, but took the vial from his hands uncorked it and downed the contents. An unpleasant chill swept over her body but when the cold receded so did her aches and pains.

“Maker.” She groaned. Varric took the empty vial from her hand, and gently nudged her towards the door.

“Alright, now that you're hangover free get a move on. This dwarf has work to do.” Cassandra let him guide her out the door. “Find me at lunch tomorrow, but no promises!” Varric called after her as she walked down the hallway.

Cassandra caught a few strange looks as she made her way through the castle back to the training grounds. It could have been the rare smile that was plastered to her face, or that she was muttering to herself about “Dwarven constitutions.”

\----

Varric leaned against the door to his room as he closed it on Cassandra’s retreating form.

“Well, shit.” He said to himself. Varric sat down at his desk and pulled out the poem from inside his tunic, placing it in the desk's locked drawer. He shuffled through the pages on his desk until he found a clean piece of vellum, “Guess I actually have to write another chapter now.”

 


	2. Midday

The ink was barely dry on the paper as Varric took his usual seat by the fire in the great hall. Somewhere during the night the dwarf had managed a few hours of sleep, but he had risen early to finish what he had started the night before on the latest chapter of _Swords & Shields._ He wondered how he had managed to get himself into this mess for the umpteenth time since Cassandra had left his room. When she had found the poem on his desk his instincts had frozen up. He was a storyteller by trade he should have been able to come up with a less damaging lie than that it was for another chapter in his least favorite serial. But he had been too concerned with getting the piece of paper away from the Seeker as quickly as possible.

It was stupid really. Varric didn’t write poetry. None of that flowery, romantic shit that Cassandra was so fond of. But that was the point, Cassandra liked sappy and overt expressions of affection. He saw it in her face every time she reread his books, or watched the Inquisitor and Cullen steal off together to be alone. It’s not like he loved her or anything but he did enjoy seeing her happy and he had secretly wanted to be the one to put a smile on her face. Not that he had ever intended on letting her see the poem, at all, _ever._ It was a passing fancy, and once he had an idea in his head the only way to get rid of it was to get it on paper. Really he should have just burned it after it was penned but he never thought in a million years that she would see it.

The relationship, if you could call it that, between himself and the Seeker was tense at best. They were both to blame really. Kidnapping, omissions of truth, bodily harm, these weren’t grievances easily surpassed. But after finding out that the Seeker enjoyed his writing, his romance serial no less he had begun to see her a little differently. He wasn’t seeking out her company by any means, but he didn’t avoid her either. And maybe, just maybe his jabs during their verbal sparring matches held just a little less venom than normal. Admittedly, he enjoyed seeing her riled up underneath all that armour and padding but his aim these days was more to tease than to anger.

The night on the battlements though had changed things for him. Touching her, however innocently, hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. They were getting friendlier and a punch to the arm or slap on the back were not outside his realm of normal interactions between acquaintances. But he had been drunk, _really_ drunk and he had taken it a bit too far for where they were with each other. Her body was hard muscle and just the right amount of soft curve, and with his arm around her waist Corypheus could have returned, flying past them on his dragon and he would have been hard pressed to give a damn. He should be worried really, if the Seeker knew he was having these kinds of thoughts and feelings about her he would be _hoping_ for the return of Corypheus. It would be a less painless death. But now the idea of making her happy was overwhelming and Andraste’s tits, if she wanted another chapter of that tawdry story then she was going to get it. It wasn’t poetry or flowers or confessions shouted from the rooftops, but it would make her happy.

Varric fidgeted with the pages on the table in front of him. He was nervous. About his work? He was good, but creating an entire story in one night was a challenge even for him. Or was he nervous about seeing her? He didn’t want to jeopardize the burgeoning relationship they had with his new feelings, but he also kind of wanted to see where they went, if it was possible that- No. This was the Seeker he was thinking of detachment was key, she’d root him out in a second if he started acting differently. Better to act like nothing had changed and avoid any awkwardness.

He heard her before he saw her, the clanking of her armour announcing her to the great hall. Varric forced himself to relax into his chair before plastering a grin on his face and looking up.

“Seeker, right on time.” Cassandra came to a stop at the table, her eyes flickering to the manuscript. “Have a seat.” He pushed a chair out with his foot.

“Good afternoon Varric. Here.” As she sat down in the proffered chair she pulled a small cloth wrapped package from her belt, handing it to him. Inside were honey cakes, her favourite. A smile twitched at his lips. “A-a thank you of sorts, for this.” She placed a gloved hand on the papers between them.

“I don’t know, you may wish you had kept them for yourself once you’ve read it.” Cassandra’s eyes grew large in protest.

“Oh no Varric, I know you do not think highly of this series but it is truly magnificent. I have every faith in you.” His stomach clenched at the earnestness in her voice. “May I?” He nodded in assent, his voice stuck somewhere deep inside with his roiling emotions.

Was it too early to start drinking? He wished he had some ale to steady him, he settled for a honey cake instead as she began to read.

“Uh…let me know if you have any thoughts or concerns I guess.” Cassandra nodded without taking her eyes of the page. Varric wondered if he could watch her and gauge her reactions without her noticing, she was completely absorbed by the story already. Thinking better of it he shuffled through some letters that still needed attending too, urging himself to work instead.

\----

“Varric I do not believe that the Knight-Captain would say such a thing, she is far too honorable.”

“Look Seeker we’ve been over this. She’s trying to get information out of this guy. She’s playing him, trying to build a rapport.”

“I still do not like it.”

“I’ll let you have the last honey cake if you just agree with me.” Varric had noticed her eyeing the sweet for the last half hour or so. Just to taunt her he had been secretly nudging it towards her when she wasn’t looking. Her jaw was clenched tight while she weighed the options in her mind. She began tapping her fingers against the hard surface of the table in mild frustration.

“Fine, you win.” She quickly snatched the cake from its wrapper and took a small bite.

“You’re the one who said they had faith in my writing, so just trust me alright?” Cassandra rolled her eyes, unable to scoff with her mouth full.

All pretense of Varric attempting to do work while Cassandra read had ceased with her steady stream of questions and suggestions. They were seated rather close together now, heads huddle over the messy pile of pages. Notes had been scratched on almost all of the documents, some a single word, others cramped paragraphs in the margins. Varric shouldn’t have been surprised. Cassandra may have been his biggest fan but apparently that didn’t mean she was going to pander to his whims. He had to admit though, she knew her stuff and her ideas weren’t half bad. She often had trouble expressing precisely what she meant, unable to find the exact words to communicate her ideas but he was quickly beginning to recognize and understand her with minimal prompting.

Varric sorted through the pages that the Seeker had already read, trying to reorganize them for when he went back to edit. It dawned on him that this might be the longest amount of time they had spent together that didn’t involve chopping something in half or being tied to a chair, or both. It astonished him sometimes how far they had come together. It was almost as unbelievable as one of his books. Cassandra picked up a new page next to him and scoffed.

“Your handwriting is atrocious Varric, I can barely read this passage at all.” She had been remarking on the deterioration of his handwriting for the past few pages. He blamed the late hour at which they had been written as well as the speed in which he had been trying to commit his ideas to paper.

“Sorry Seeker, it says uhh-” He tilted the page in her hand so he could see it better. “… _she flew down the stairs, her shield bumping against her back. As the cold night air crept up her bare arms she realized that in her haste to escape she had left her cloak behind. Without a moment’s hesitation she continued on into the pitch black night. Going back for it would mean facing_ him _again, and she wasn't sure that she could trust herself to make any more rational decisions while in his presence._ _”_ Cassandra eyed him expectantly. “More?”

“Varric I am not sure I can understand anything else that you have scrawled.”

“I could write it out again and give it to you tomorrow?” Cassandra looked crestfallen, that was clearly not the response that she had wanted.

“Could you not continue reading it to me?” Her face was as stony as ever, but her voice had raised in tone and there was a breathless quality that was unfamiliar to him.

“It’s one thing to give _you_ a sneak peek Seeker, but the entire hall? I may not be the savviest of businessmen but even I know-”

“Then somewhere more private. The Herald’s Rest? The forge? Your room?” At her last suggestion Varric promptly looked at Cassandra. Her eyes were focused on the tabletop, her fingertips tracing the patterns in the wood. If he didn’t know any better he would say that she was consciously avoiding looking at him. But she wouldn’t...there’s no way she…Varric was willing to call her bluff, his mind suddenly racing wild with a million and one impossible and inappropriate thoughts.

“Uhh sure. My room, I’ll probably need more paper anyway if I’m going to keep up with all your suggestions.” He had to stop himself from gathering his belongings as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to seem too eager at her suggestion of such an intimate setting. Then again, as romantically inclined as the Seeker was she was often oblivious to these kinds of things. Her suggestion to carry on their session in his room could be perfectly innocent. But there was something about how she was acting, a feigned nonchalance that she just wasn’t quite getting right. It reminded him of her disastrous attempts to bluff during _Wicked Grace_. Unsurprisingly the Seeker of Truth was not the most talented of liars.

Varric on the other hand was highly practiced in the art of subterfuge. Yet the walk across the great hall and into the depths of the castle took all of his willpower to remain as casual as possible. He kept sneaking covert glances at the Seeker trying to determine what exactly her motivations were. Before he knew it they were standing in front of his door. He must of paused a moment too long as Cassandra gave him a questioning look which brought him back to the situation at hand. He unlocked the door and gestured for Cassandra to enter.

 


	3. Nightfall

Cassandra was seated in a plush high backed chair in front of a fireplace. Varric's fireplace to be exact. Her heart felt as though it would beat right out of her chest. What was she doing suggesting his room, such a private and intimate space was unsuitable and inappropriate and possibly exactly what she had been hoping for.

The afternoon had taken a surprising turn she had to admit. She had been quite eager to meet with Varric. In fact she had arrived 20 minutes before he had but chose to pace outside in case he hadn't shown up. It wasn't until the manuscript was physically in her hands that she was sure he hadn't been playing some kind of trick or prank on her. Cassandra hoped that her offering of sweets would help ease any tensions that may have arisen the day before, she had been maybe a little _too_ insistent about wanting to read his work. It was admittedly a selfish move on her part, but ultimately this bizarre situation had been his suggestion even if it was under duress.

The afternoon had passed pleasantly. Varric had been surprisingly open to her comments and suggestions about the story. She felt very protective over the wellbeing of the Knight-Captain, but she trusted Varric's storytelling ability and conceded to many of his points. Their spirited debates over plot and character motivations meant that the reading of the chapter was taking much longer than she had thought it would. But it wasn't until she was many pages in that the real struggle to continue in a timely fashion became Varric's handwriting. She was getting annoyed with having to constantly ask for clarifications. She hadn't expected though for Varric to just start reading the passages to her. And she certainly hadn't expected to be affected by it as much as she was. Hearing Varric speak of the Knight-Captain with such emotion and passion filled her with what was becoming a frighteningly familiar warmth. His voice created the same sensation of heat within her that his hands on her body had the morning before. When he finished speaking she was abruptly shifted back to reality within the great hall. Unfortunately, that short reverie brought with it the realization that in future just _reading_ the material was not going to suffice.

Spurred by the ease of their conversation and the familiarity that was seemingly growing between them, Cassandra attempted to subtly push Varric towards her intended goal. Even if it took well into the night she wanted Varric to read her the rest of the story.

Cassandra was so pleased with herself for having achieved her goal that it wasn't until she was actually sitting in Varric's bedroom that she realized just how intimate the situation had become. Had he noticed? Did he think she had suggested his room with ulterior motives? _Had_ she suggested his room with ulterior motives? Cassandra was suddenly nervous again. The contrast between the openness of the great hall which had been filled with a multitude of people, and the closeness of Varric's room with just the two of them was vast. The dynamic in the air changed almost instantly with her realization of it. Luckily for her Varric was busy pouring himself a drink while she was having her sudden bout of awareness.

“Did you want something to drink as well?”

“ _No_. No thank you.” As dry as her mouth had suddenly become, she didn't think that alcohol would benefit the situation.

\----

The only thing that was going to get him through this utterly baffling turn of events was a stiff drink. The bottle shook in his hand and Varric managed to get more of the liquid on the table than in the glass. He only wanted something to take the edge off, he certainly didn’t need a repeat of before. No, he needed to be alert enough to catch himself before doing anything foolish. The alcohol burned down his throat, but left a warmness in his core that began to centre his mind again.

Replacing the bottle back on the small table Varric gathered up his papers and writing implements before taking the chair across from the already seated Cassandra. The Seeker was sitting ramrod straight, her hands gripping the arms of the chair with just a bit too much forcefulness. Whatever her intentions had been before, she was obviously uncomfortable with the situation now. Varric’s pulse ticked up a notch, if she was feeling uncomfortable then she must be aware of how different this arrangement felt from their previous one in the great hall. Varric would have given his left arm to know what the Seeker was thinking about right now. Did she want to leave? Was she forcing herself to stay not to make the situation more awkward? If being alone together had been her intention was she anxious about opening herself up to him? His thoughts were getting away from him conjuring up countless different scenarios, but the Seeker’s face remained passive. No inclination of her thoughts and feelings aside from her anxiousness in the slight pulling of the skin around her eyes and mouth.

Varric tried to put a damper on his imagination. The ball was in her court, so to speak. If there was something she wanted to say or _do_ -the memory of her warm arm across his shoulders flashed through his mind. She was going to have to make the first move. Varric had an excellent skill for reading people but the Seeker surprised him far too often for him to even pretend that he had a grasp on her inner workings.

Better to just get on with it.

“Where were we? Ahh yes, our heroine was escaping.”

As Varric began reciting his story the tension in the room eased. Cassandra began to visibly relax, and they returned to an atmosphere similar to the one they had had in the great hall. The back and forth between himself and the Seeker was not as easy as it had been before though. She was taking longer to articulate her thoughts as if her attention was elsewhere and to respond to him was taking considerable mental effort.

The afternoon continued on much as it had before and soon the sun began to set through the window behind him, the orange and red hues filtering into the room. The rays began to reflect off of Cassandra’s breastplate and illuminate her face from below. She closed her eyes against the sudden shine of light. In this moment he could have written sonnets, odes, entire epics to her beauty and not do it justice. The shadows created by the hard planes of her jawline or her cheekbones alone would take all the ink in the castle to describe. To escape the brightness Cassandra shifted from her chair to sit on the ground instead and Varric realized with a sobering and crushing reality that his feelings towards the woman sitting mere feet from him were far more serious than he had ever imagined. Well, shit.

\----

Varric was reading the same passage for the second time. Cassandra wouldn’t have even noticed if she hadn’t been stirred from her Varric induced stupor by the setting sun on her face. She was warm all over, her skin tingled in anticipation of each word, each syllable that passed his lips. The thought had occurred to her as she watched him speak that Varric had nice lips. She liked the way the corners of his mouth turned up in an infuriating smirk when he read a passage he knew would get a rise out of her. Whenever the Knight-Captain was in danger he slowed his pace, speaking each word evenly, with a maddening lethargy drawing her in. She was a woman transfixed. Keeping her focus on the story was taking more and more effort. Her mind kept wandering with thoughts of what else Varric could do with those lips. Her daydreams had surprised her, but what had surprised her more was the ease at which they were created. It was as if his seemingly innocent touches on the battlements and in the yard had created a spark within her that was beginning to catch.

Varric had a rather strange, almost pained expression growing on his features. She instantly felt guilty, he was obviously growing tired with this experiment. Really she had taken up too much of his time. The evening had begun creeping in and Cassandra realized just how much time they had spent together today. Surely he had better and more important things to be doing than entertaining her.

Varric had stopped speaking. The pages in his hand hung limp, threatening to spill onto the floor. But the dwarf seemed oblivious his eyes unfocused as he stared at the pages. Cassandra rose from the floor and began lighting a fire in the fireplace. She would make him some tea before heading on her way. Their time together had obviously strained him more than he was willing to admit and she didn’t want him to think her ungrateful.

He looked startled as she placed the steaming mug at his side as if he hadn’t been aware that she had even moved from her seat.

“Drink, you are tired.” Varric set down the papers in his hand and picked up the mug. “I will take my leave, I did not mean to exert you so.” She headed towards the door.

“Wait!” Varric was half out of his chair papers sliding from his lap to his feet. “It’s alright Seeker, I swear. Just a momentary lapse in concentration. Trying to remember whether or not I sent an important letter to my editor. Sit, sit.” Cassandra hesitated a moment before sitting back down on the floor, back resting against the chair she previously sat in. “You should have some tea too.” Varric walked towards the kettle hanging above the fire, trampling the pages that had fallen to his feet in the process.

“Varric, be careful!” Cassandra lurched forward to gather the papers off the floor. Varric barely gave them a passing glance. She scoffed and clutched the bundle to her chest, trying her best to organize them in some fashion. The dwarf passed her a mug in one hand while holding out the other for the papers. She took the tea from his hand, their fingertips barely brushing against one another's and reluctantly gave him the pile of pages.

\----

Varric took a big gulp of his quickly cooling tea before sitting back down in his chair. Was he sweating? He felt like he was sweating and the tea was not helping. But he needed something to do with his hands because he was strongly resisting the urge to grab Cassandra’s face and caress every facet of it. It was like a dam had broken and ever sordid thought he had apparently been keeping at bay was suddenly rushing forward. Maybe he should have let her go, it was unwise to have her this close to him. He was regretting the little bit of alcohol from earlier now. He took his time reorganizing his papers before clearing his throat and beginning to read again. He honestly wasn’t sure where he had left off and by the smirk rising on the Seeker’s face he began to wonder if maybe he had already read this section. But she stayed silent and so he kept on reading.

He hoped it wasn’t _too_ obvious but he was frequently stealing glances at the Seeker, taking immense pleasure in her reactions to the story. She seemed calm with the mug of tea grasped between her two hands. And relaxed too, with one knee up that she was resting her mug on, the other on the floor folded close against her. He _really_ wanted to know what it would feel like to run his hands across her calves, behind her knees and up her thighs. Varric jolted back to the task at hand. Focus. The heat from the fire mixed with the rising temperature in his blood was making it hard breath. He pulled the edges of his tunic away from his neck a bit attempting to facilitate some air flow. He heard a sharp intake of breath from across the room. Covertly peeking over the tops of the pages Varric risked a look at Cassandra. Was she blushing? She was sitting pretty close to the fire, and she was still in her armour. Varric assured himself that she was merely feeling the heat from the roaring blaze as he was. She _had_ been particularly silent for a while now though, he was quickly nearing the end of the story without her interruptions.

Sometime when he hadn’t been watching Cassandra had taken off her heavy leather gloves. She must then, also be feeling the heat from the fire. Her fingers were long and elegant wrapped around the mug. He knew her hands though to be strong and calloused like any warriors from years of hard labour and training. He was thinking of how her hands would feel running through his hair before he even had time to stop himself. He quickly tore his eyes from her hands and back to her face, hoping that she hadn’t noticed his lingering look. He was safe, she hadn’t seen him staring but only because she was staring herself. At him. Not straight at him though, at his neck? No, he realized. At his collarbone, which had been exposed when he had adjusted his tunic. Her quiet gasp, he realized, it had been because of him not the fire.

Varric was completely at a loss with what to do. If it had been anyone else that he had caught staring at his chest, which let’s face it was a fairly common occurrence, he would say something. But he didn’t want to embarrass her or frighten her off. If she was developing some kind of feelings for him if anything he wanted to encourage her. He was so busy pondering whether or not he could come up with a plausible reason to show off more of his chest that he hadn’t realized exactly what was happening in the story which he was still reading out loud.

“ _He brushed a strand of her titian coloured hair away from her face, slowly trailing the backs of his fingers down her cheek and across her jawline. She shuddered under his touch, lips parting in anticipation.”_

Varric did a double take back at the page and abruptly stopped speaking. They were about to have sex. The characters in the story that he was reading out loud to a hot and bothered Seeker were about to have sex. Why had this not occurred to him before? He wrote the damn thing, with the express intent of her reading it. He had been silent too long. Cassandra was staring straight at him now her face flushed and her eyes lidded. It was now or never, he could continue reading and see how this whole thing panned out. If it went as he hoped it would be like something out of one of his novels, two people coming together passed pretense and longing from afar. Or he could-

“Uhh...that’s it sorry. That’s all I have written.” Fool.

It took a moment for Cassandra to realize what he had said.

“Oh...Are you sure?”

“Only blank pages from here on out.” He started hastily grabbing all the loose papers around him into a bundle, afraid that she might insist on seeing just how blank the pages actually were. The Seeker was slowly raising from her seated position on the ground.

“Then I should go. Yes?-Yes.” Cassandra seemed more than a little dazed. He couldn't blame her, he felt it too. The tension between them was palpable, their longing weighed heavy in the air. He was already cursing himself for bringing this all to a sudden halt. However, as much that it pained him, and it pained him greatly at the moment, he knew it was for the best. The afternoon had been long and strange and so out of the ordinary that both of their heads were rapidly losing the ability to make reasoned decisions. He was certainly not thinking with his. In a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness Cassandra bumped into the chair on her way to the door. Maker. If she couldn't even walk a straight line he needed to get her out of this situation as soon as possible for both their sakes. He backed up to his desk on the other side of the room keeping his hands steadfastly at his sides, putting as much physical space between them as possible. Cassandra was standing in his now open doorway, her back facing him. He didn't want to let her go. He could pull her back in, into his arms, into his bed. He gripped onto the desk behind him _hard_ the edges biting into his hands, and she was gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Evening

Cassandra was standing in the castle yard, dusk had fallen and a cool wind was whipping through her short hair. Her breathing was ragged and there was a thin layer of perspiration all over her body. She needed to sit down. She wasn't even exactly sure how she had gotten outside in the first place. Muscle memory must have carried her here during her state of disorientation. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins, she felt as if she had just come off the battlefield. Maybe she was having a delayed reaction to defeating Corypheus, she felt exhilarated, euphoric. It was _intense_. It was _shameful_. She was a grown woman, not some doe-eyed maiden. A man's voice and a little bit of skin should not be able to turn her into some keening, wanton creature. But she did, want him that is, and badly.

She began heading towards the forge. She would have quiet dinner, clear her head and process what happened this afternoon rationally. She hadn't made it ten paces before the Inquisitor was at her side.

“Cassandra there you are.” The younger woman wrapped her arms around hers. “I've been looking everywhere for you, come let's go have something to eat.” She started pulling Cassandra in the direction of the Herald's Rest. “You know I've been hearing the _strangest_ rumors today.”

\----

It was surprisingly quiet inside the tavern. They were sat in the upper floors, apart from those who had apparently not learned their lesson about excesses the day prior. Cassandra hadn't realized just how hungry she was until a plate of food was placed in front of her. She eagerly began to eat while the Inquisitor merely pushed the food around her plate. Cassandra was beginning to wonder if dinner had merely been a convenient excuse to keep her seated in one place for an extended period of time. Her suspicions were confirmed when Leliana suddenly appeared at their table.

“Fancy running into you here Leliana, would you care to join us?” Leliana pulled out a chair and sat down. “I was just saying to Cassandra here that I've been hearing some rather interesting rumors flying around the castle today. Maybe you know what I'm talking about?”

“Do you mean the one about Varric and Cassandra sharing longing looks at each other in the great hall? Or is it the one where our friend here has been seen coming and going from our illustrious author's room at all hours of the day and night?” Cassandra’s food stuck in her throat, she drank some wine quickly to wash it down.

“You two are incorrigible. All hours of the night-Ugh.”

“But you have been to his room lately have you not?” If Leliana was asking it was because she already knew but wanted to hear her confess. As if her actions had been shameful in some way. Cassandra flushed involuntarily, thankful for the dim light. If they knew her thoughts only 30 minutes prior, they _would_ think her shameful.

“Varric has written another chapter of _Swords & Shields_ and he has let me read it, that is all.”

“Let you read it...in his room?” The two women eyed her skeptically.

“He-he was...reading it to me.” Cassandra's voice quieted and she hid her face in her cup not wanting to give either woman the satisfaction of seeing her uncomfortable. Leliana and the Inquisitor shared a surprised glance with each other. At least they had the good graces not to giggle like schoolgirls.

“Varric wrote you a new chapter of his _romance_ serial, and read it to you. In his room, _alone?_ ” She nodded, still not wanting to look at them directly. “And you're both still _alive_? He is alive isn't he?” At this Leliana did laugh.

“He was when I left him.” She growled.

“Cassandra, has something happened that we don't know about? You have to admit these actions are surprising and not at all like either of you.”

“My dear Inquisitor, you obviously did not see them on the battlements together. You were otherwise occupied I suppose.” It was the Inquisitor's turn to blush.

“What happened?”

“Why they were hugging each other. Gripping at one another with such earnestness I could barely look.” Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“Are you sure you are not an author yourself Leliana, such fanciful imaginations. It was merely a...supportive embrace between comrades.” Cassandra could tell that she had lost all sense of integrity on the subject and resigned herself to laugh about it with her friends.

“But how did this even happen? You must tell us _everything.”_ And so she did, beginning with Varric's hand on her hip during the sunrise through till her dazed escape earlier in the evening. They were enraptured with her tale, hanging on every word. They gasped and sighed at all the right places and she felt relieved to talk through her experiences. Unashamed at the honest display of her own emotions.

“Then you care for him?” The Inquisitor was the first to speak when she had finished.

“I am-I am unsure what I feel exactly. But I do feel something, and for now that is enough.” The Inquisitor could barely contain her excitement at Cassandra's confession. Leliana however looked thoughtful.

“What about the poem? What did it say?”

“Like I said, I was not able to read it before Varric hid it away.”

“But you said, that he said, that it was for the chapter. Surely you would have read it, or he would have read it to you?”

Cassandra paused, thinking. She hadn't read it. Was it possible that she had missed him reading it aloud, distracted by a daydream? No. Surely Varric reciting poetry would have brought her back from any stretch of the imagination that she had conjured up.

“I-I don't recall him reading any poetry in the story...But if it wasn't for the story why was he so insistent that I not read it?” Leliana was grinning into her cup.

“Maybe he edited it out? I mean, you don't think he wrote a poem for y-and then wrote an entire story to cover...” The Inquisitor grew silent as she began to realize what she was implying. Her eyebrows jumped up her forehead, her eyes growing wide, she was positively shaking with excitement. “Varric likes you! And he wrote you a poem.” The younger woman grasped her hand over her heart sighing wistfully.

“Do not jump to conclusions. I am sure there is a rational explanation for its absence from the story.” Even though Cassandra had just finished laying out all her most intimate thoughts and feelings to the two women in front of her, she would not tell them how her heart had suddenly leapt at the thought of Varric writing poetry _for her_.

“You must ask him about it!”

“Don't be silly. It is nothing.”

“I agree with the Inquisitor. What harm is there?”

What harm indeed?

\----

Skyhold was returning to normal, although the cheerful air of victory remained. There was more laughter in the air, people went about their tasks and routines with more ease and calmness. Everyone that is, except Cassandra. Varric had been avoiding her for days now. He was rarely to be found at his usual spot in the great hall. The few times that she had caught him there he had hurried off with made-up excuses, tripping over himself in haste to get away from her. She had even gone by his room to try and speak to him but to no avail.

Cassandra swung her sword at the training dummy with perhaps more force than necessary. She was training longer and more frequently lately, frustration at the situation building within her. It didn’t help that her friends had begun teasing her about the entire affair. Leliana of course would have taken her story to the grave, the Inquisitor on the other hand. She regretted telling their leader anything. She should have known that she would tell Cullen, who had told Bull, who had told Dorian and that was that really. By now everyone knew, or thought they knew, what had gone on in Varric’s room that afternoon. To hear some speak of it, it had been a clashing of heads all their enmity and loathing coming to fruition. Others believed that they had spent the hours-well…spent the hours doing far more pleasurable activities. If he would only talk to her. Cassandra smashed her shield against the dummy and it creaked under the excessive force.

\----

He wasn’t avoiding Cassandra. Well, not intentionally. He was just _really_ busy, truly. With the defeat of Corypheus his editor was hounding him already for another _Tale of the Champion._ Did she not understand that these things take time? It’s not like you can just write an entire story in one nigh-oh. He felt guilty over the entire situation. Cassandra must hate him at the moment. He wanted to go to her, he almost had the next morning. But just because the Big Bad had been defeated did not mean that his work had stopped. Kirkwall still needed him, now maybe more than ever. He was receiving letters by the bundle, every day. He was in constant meetings with Ruffles and Nightingale using their contacts and information trying to facilitate deals, mediate disputes, you name it.

To make matters worse, he may have let what had happened between him and Cassandra slip to Josephine. It was a moment of weakness really. In all the stress and confusion of dealing with contracts and request of services and a number of other stuffy and important documents he just had to talk to someone about what had happened! Really you’d think someone with such a natural aptitude for tact would be able to keep a secret better. He heard the whispers though, saw the stares, it seemed like everyone knew, or at least suspected something. Subjecting Cassandra to this kind of lowbrow and uncivilized behaviour, and with him unable to talk to her for days now she must feel humiliated. He would have to work very hard to turn this all around.

And he did want to turn it around, he wanted to be with her as crazy as it sounded even to him. Things were changing around them. With Corypheus defeated their future was uncertain, new plans were being created and he didn’t want to lose his chance. He would find her, talk to her and tell her how he felt even if that was all he could do. Just… _later_.

\----

Varric rubbed the sleep from his eyes. It had been a tiring day, but worth it. The work he was doing felt good, he was making a difference using the skills he had. It was different than when he was in battle, there certainly wasn’t the same blood-pumping adrenaline or visceral, primal emotions, but the sense of accomplishment was somehow more so. He was outside on the walls, not somewhere he usually was, he did tend to stay a little closer to the ground, but he had needed some fresh air. Looking up into the sky the moon stared back at him, he hadn’t realized it was so late. Damn. He had intended to go speak to Cassandra, but it was too late now, she’d likely be asleep. Tomorrow, he promised himself and made his way back inside.

He turned the corner into the hallway where his room lay, and there pacing in front of his door was Cassandra. She did not look happy.

“Seeker!”

“Dwarf.” Her voice was low, almost a growl.

They both stopped in their tracks, staring at each other from opposite ends of the hallway.

“You know, I was just thinking about you-“

“Stop talking. Inside, _now.”_ She pointed at his door never taking her eyes off him as he walked down the hallway towards her. She loomed over him, effectively trapping him against the door, he had no choice but to open it.

Inside his room was dark and cold. He had barely been in it at all in the past few days except to catch a few hours of sleep where he could and freshen up when he had to. The Seeker followed him into the room, blocking the doorway with her body as he lit the fireplace.

“I’m not going to run away Seeker, not this time anyway.” She scoffed, closing and locking the door behind her.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“No! I…I didn’t mean to, honestly.” He said sheepishly. “It’s been rather hectic lately.” He made a sweeping gesture around his room. Not that it was usually spotless but there were far more tomes and piles of paper littered around the room than normal. Empty inkwells lined the windowsill by his desk. Cassandra’s face softened.

“Truly? I thought…I thought that you did not want to see me anymore…after.” The anger that had been so visible before seemed to fall off her.

“No! Never! Maker, Cassandra you’re all I’ve thought about for days, but Kirkwall needed me and-I’m sorry it’s not an excuse I should have tried harder to see you.” She looked up at him with an intense gaze.

“Say it again.”

“I’m sorry-“

“No. The part where you said my name.”1

“…Cassandra.” He said it more softly. She was smiling now, timidly, shyly unlike anything he’d ever seen her do.

“I wanted to ask you about something.”

“Anything.”

“…the poem, why was it not in the story?”

“The poem?” It took a moment for Varric to comprehend what she was talking about, but then. “Oh, the _poem_.” Idiot. All that work to cover up his blunder and he had forgotten to include the most crucial element. Had it been his unconscious self working against him? As if _The Seeker_ would simply forget how this all started. No lies or elaborate fabrications were going to get him out of it now, and he was surprisingly okay with that. He crossed the room to his desk and unlocked the drawer that he had put the poem in days ago. Holding the page in his hands he turned back to look at Cassandra. She hesitated before straightening up and crossing the room, coming to stand next to him in front of the window. They were both bathed in moonlight, it suited her.

“I didn’t write the poem for _Swords & Shields_. I freaked out a little when you found it and then one thing led to another and-“

“Why did you write it then?” Cassandra stepped closer to him, the desk behind him bit into his back, he had nowhere to go. Whatever timidity he had seen before was gone, the same intense look that she had worn when he said her name had returned.

“I wrote it for you…Cassandra.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Ever After: A Cinderella Story. Dir. Andy Tennant. Perf. Drew Barrymore and Anjelica Huston. Twentieth Century Fox, 1998. Film.
> 
> I saw a gifset of this scene recently on tumblr and it was just too perfect to pass up.


	5. Midnight

“I wrote it for you…Cassandra.” As he said her name again she felt her knees begin to weaken.

“May I?” She held her hand out expectantly. He gave her the poem.

Cassandra turned and sat on the edge of the desk, she needed the full light of the moon to read the words on the page, but the movement also brought her shoulder to shoulder with Varric. A mirror image of how they had stood on the battlements in the early dawn light.

“Look, it’s not very good. Really I could write you something else, something better.”

“I will be the judge of that.”

 

_your passion blazes brighter than the sun_

_more radiant than the moon, I am undone_

_the wind is breathless in your presence_

_cowed by your devotion, steadfast adoration_

_monuments bend to your will in supplication_

_an attestation of your faith_

 

_your elegance deserves dedication_

_careful study, wild veneration_

_an illustration of your grace_

 

_my word undeserving of your praise_

_insufficient in its reverence, unfitting to your compassion_

_my word_

_in adulation of your love_

 

She was silent for a long time.

“You wrote this for _me_?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure, weeks ago maybe?”

“Then you have felt like this for _weeks_?”

“Yes? No? I’m not sure. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear, but I think I was in denial. I know I felt something but it wasn’t until we really started spending time together with the reading, and the fire, and the sunlight…look, I like you Cassandra. I like you a lot and I want to see where this, where _us_ , goes.”

Varric had written poetry for her _._ Varric had feelings for her _._ Varric wanted to _be_ with her.

She kissed him.

The angle was awkward at first but Varric quickly turned to face her his strong hands coming to rest at her waist. The poem was still clutched in her hand as she wrapped her arms around his neck deepening the kiss. She sighed against his mouth, lips parting as he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth. She wanted to laugh. All this time, yelling at each other, fighting and belittling one another and they could have been doing this. She wanted to feel his hair in her hands. Careful not to break their connection she pulled off her gloves and dropped them and the poem onto the desk next to them. Varric drew one of his hands up her side and to the back of her neck tilting her head down further to meet his. His other hand gripped her waist harder, pulling her closer to him as she carded her bare fingers through his hair. Varric gently pulled back from the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

“Maker you’re beautiful Cassandra.” She smiled and dropped a hand to his chest.

“I care for you Varric.”

“I think you've made that plenty clear See-Cassandra.” He said with a chuckle.

“Good. But I wanted to say it. I wanted to tell you.” She was desperate to feel more of him, the inviting heat of his body, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against hers. Her armour and many layers were quickly becoming a nuisance. “I've imagined this. Kissing you, your hands on my body. I have felt your touch when you're not there. The sound of your voice Varric, it ignites my skin. When you read to me I could hardly breath it burned so greatly.”

Varric buried his head in the crook of her neck and groaned loudly. The vibration of his voice ran through her and she closed her eyes, inhaling sharply as heat pooled between her legs. Varric pressed a slow open mouthed kiss to her neck, pulling at her collar to access as much of her skin as possible. Her hand on his chest gripped the cloth of his tunic roughly as his lips traveled up her neck ghosting over her jawline.

“Stay with me tonight.” She felt the heat of his breath on her ear as he spoke to her. Cassandra quickly nodded her head.

“Yes, of course.” She was desperate to feel his lips on hers once more. “Kiss me Varric.”

“Don't have to ask me twice.” His kisses were harder now, more insistent. As were his hands on her body, pulling at the straps and buckles of her armour, attempting to gain access to her skin underneath. Propelled by his eagerness she let her own hands wander over his form. Pushing the edges of his tunic apart, revealing even more of his chest to her frenzied touches. Without warning Varric grasped her waist and lifted her up off the floor. Cassandra hastily clung onto his shoulders as he carried her across the room and laid her down upon his bed. He placed a chaste kiss to the inside of her still leather clad knee.

“You realize now that I know what my voice does to you, I'm never going to shut up.”

“I think I'll manage.” Cassandra grasped his face, kissing him while pulling his body down on top of hers.

\----

The early morning light filtered into Varric's room, casting waves of colour across the wall as it refracted through the empty inkwells on the windowsill. The fire from last night was nearly exhausted only a small flickering flame remained. Cassandra laid on her side her back to the fireplace, wrapped in Varric's tunic. Varric was sitting in front of her reading from a book in his hand, his other hand was tracing leisurely circles across the expanse of her hip. Cassandra grasped the hand at her hip and slowly pulled it up towards her mouth, placing a kiss on his palm.

“Will you finish writing the chapter for me? I would like to know if the Knight-Captain gets her happy ending.” She interrupted his recitation as the thought entered her mind.

“Oh...uhhh. I did finish it actually-I mean, it was finished when I let you see it.”

“' _She shuddered under his touch, lips parting in anticipation.'_ That is not an ending Varric, that is barely a beginning!” Varric chuckled at her outrage.

“That would be because there were at least five more pages after that.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“Cassandra have you forgotten how all of those books end?” She blushed at the realization.

“Ahh yes. You were right to stop it where you did. Of course, we do seem to have ended up in the same place anyway.” Varric laughed again. “Although there would have been far less frustration in the meantime.” Varric sighed heavily, his eyes downcast.

“I'm sorry again, for my part in that. I could have spared you the brunt of it if I had just spoken to you. Or at least if I had just kept what happened between us to myself.” Cassandra squeezed his hand.

“It is in the past, do not worry yourself about it. And I too played my own part in letting it get out of hand. But who may I ask did _you_ tell?” Maybe she hadn't been the cause of the leak after all.

“Ruffles. But in my defense it was an accident!” No. It was definitely her fault.

“You told Josephine?”

“I thought she could keep a secret, apparently not.”

“Do not think badly of her, I do not believe she was the one to expose us, as it were. I told Leliana.”

“Well I don't believe for one second that our spy-master couldn't keep her mouth shut.”

“...and the Inquisitor.”

“Ahhh, I see. And she told Cullen?” Cassandra nodded.

“Who told Bull.”

“Who told Dorian. That makes much more sense. And here I thought I would have to continue to feel guilty for awhile longer having subjected you to such lewd rumor and speculation.”

“I am afraid it is not speculation anymore my dear.” Cassandra kissed the backs of his fingers before entwining their hands together.

“We could give them something to really talk about.” Varric leaned forward capturing Cassandra's mouth with his, carelessly throwing the book in his hand behind him. The castle was beginning to awaken around them, soon they would no longer be able to ignore the call of their duties. But for now they were content to remain as they were. Besides, Cassandra imagined she could stand to miss just _one_ day of training.

 

  
  


 


End file.
